


Something Evil This Way Comes

by madnina



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Little Red Riding Hood, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Gen, Poison, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1494751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnina/pseuds/madnina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has been cursed, now trapped in a Disney-esque fairy tale land with no memory of his past life. Cast as the Little Red Riding Hood, he realizes something is amiss and enlists the aid of the Big Bad Wolf to escape. But first, he has to avoid getting eaten alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Evil This Way Comes

**—THE MAIDEN—**

A sparrow fluttered into through the window. It settled gracefully on his desk. After having pecked a few leftover crumbs, it shook its sleek brown and red plumage and gazed at him with inquisitive eyes.

“Cui?”

He approached the small creature very slowly. No sudden movements now. Don’t frighten it.

The heavy tome slammed on the desk with enough force to flatten a small mammal.

Unfortunately the bird was quicker, and flew away unharmed, chirping shrilly in alarm.

“Damn!”

Spring was an incredibly dangerous season. All sorts un unsavoury creatures would appear around the village. Butterflies. Newborn lambs. Fawns. Songbirds of any kind were the worst however. They’d whistle a catchy melody, and before you knew it, there was a song on your lips. It was like a disease, spreading out like a contagious virus. If you weren’t careful, the whole thing could degenerate into an epidemic. Last time, the whole village had ended up performing a garish song and dance routine. _Because someone was sweeping their courtyard_. He shuddered at that memory. The nightmares still plagued him.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t shut himself in the house from March till September. He took advantage of the drier weather to wander in the Darkwood instead.

After too many years to count, he knew the forest like back pocket, and had precisely mapped out its borders – or rather, the magical limits of the valley which had always prevented him from going further without inexplicably looping back. If you walked far enough west, you’d find yourself suddenly standing on the far eastern edge of the valley. The whole thing defied any law of physics or nature. That this was the result of an enchantment was obvious, but the storybooks he’d collected hadn’t yielded any relevant information on how to escape it.

Today, Maman had sent him off on his monthly commission of fruit and beverage to Grand-mere’s house. Grand-mere was an old hag that always pinched his cheeks and rambled on for hours about neighborhood gossip. He didn’t often go. But there was that one part of the Darkwood, two miles from the road, which always had the highest diversity of fungi species for his collection. Maman always warned him to stay on the road lest he stumble upon some dangerous and evil creature. So far, he had not been so lucky, despite the brightly coloured cloak he wore to make sure he was visible from far away. As far as he could compare Darkwood to other forests from the storybooks, it was an exceedingly boring forest. The most evil thing he’d ever found in the woods had been a leprechaun with an almost incomprehensible, drunkenly slurred Irish brogue, stumbling back from the patronal festivities in the neighbouring village. It had collapsed into an ethylic coma after he offered it some plum wine. He had overturned its pot of gold in search of something fun, but alas it only contained gold coins – useless, when the villages thrived on exchange of goods and naïve goodwill.

His senses were alert as the woods darkened, branches overhead blocking out the sun and plunging everything in deeper shadows. After three miles in the sharp bend to the left, he strayed off the main road into a footpath he knew led to a small brook by which some rarer fungi grew from time to time. He’d catalogued forty-six species of fungi in this part of the wood alone, fourteen of which were lethal (on rats and mice) in large enough doses. Two weeks ago the gypsies had come back and he’d finally got his hands on proper glass flasks (he’d been wanting some for years, clay pots were nowhere near as efficient). Now he needed new samples for an alchemy experiment.

He was busy examining an unusual strain of Ammonita when he noticed the noises in the forest had quieted. It wasn’t just those bastard songbirds’ gleeful chirping; even the more ominous magpie or crow calls had stopped. Involuntarily, his hairs on his neck raised and he felt goosebumps on his skin. Unmistakable signs of a creature of evil nature approaching. Quickly, he reviewed in his mind the criteria of the Theoretical Scale of Evilness he’d invented based on content from the storybooks. The symptoms he felt (as well as an unmistakable thickening of the mist) meant this was at least a 6 or 7 – unenchanted wild predators being a 1, and he Devil Himself a 10. His heart quickened in anticipation. He stayed crouched down in order to encourage the creature to draw in closer. He daren’t move too much, thinking the creature would want him, the human, to feel appropriately scared, now that it was manifesting itself.

A guttural and rugged voice echoed behind him.

“Hello, Little Red Cloak. Are you lost?”

  
 **—THE WOLF—**

He felt the tendrils of something sweet and delicious pull at his nose. Someone was in these woods, not far. Something naïve and innocent; he could detect the hypnotic scent of a virgin’s blood from miles. A maiden, so far in the woods, alone? That hadn’t happened in a while.

Irresistibly drawn to the scent, he padded his way through the mist and came into sight of the maiden, kneeling on the floor facing away from him. It was a young figure with pale skin, a mop of jet black hair, picking at mushrooms innocently. Her cloak was long and blood red; she was either looking for trouble or extraordinarily stupid; maybe both. He knew his presence had been felt; could see the skin on her neck coming up in goosebumps and her heartbeat accelerating. She knew he was coming for her. The anticipation made his mouth water despite himself. He couldn’t help devouring those poor souls but they were always so delicious.

Time to make her face him. He arranged his teeth in his most wicked smile, and stepped forward to make himself known.

“Hello there, Little Read Cloak. Are you lost?”

The maiden swivelled run to look at him. He took in her widened eyes (wide with fear, undoubtedly) and then stalled.

This wasn’t a maiden at all. It was a young man, rather tall actually – taller than him (and he was a good five feet tall on his four legs). He was pale and thin. For a moment, he thought he’d made a mistake. Could this be a prince, a mage, or an adventurer? He was certainly handsome enough. But he carried no sword or staff or bow, just a picnic basket. And there was no mistaking the blood scent of a virgin; he was practically programmed to recognise it. He composed himself. Very well, not a maiden, but an innocent and naïve youth all the same, he couldn’t be older than twenty. These were modern times, and far be it from him to be close-minded on such irrelevant issues such as gender. The young man would be eaten up regardless.  
Nobody ever escaped him.

The youth’s voice rang out a soothing baritone; “Not lost. I’m delivering food and drink to Grand-mere.”

“Ah, what a kind boy you are. Where does your Grand-mere live?”

“Oh, she has a cottage just before the next village, past the mill on the road with the large ash tree.”

“And what are you doing here deep in the forest, so far from the road, wearing your little red cloak?”

“Collecting fungus samples. It appears I’ve found a new strain of _Ammonita phalloides_. A rather interesting species, if you must know – it appears to only grow on the north bank of small rivers under a waxing moon.”

“Fungus? Waxing moon?” The youth spoke strangely. What on Earth was an Ammonita anyways? And samples? His victims were usually trembling in their shoes by now, begging for mercy.

Shit. Wait, he was getting distracted. This was a stalling tactic. The youth was talking nonsense hoping he would get confused, and then his prey would escape! That must be it. Keep control of the situation, he told himself. After all, you’re the stronger one here.

“What would you want these mushrooms for? They’re poisonous, you know.”

“I don’t eat them, obviously,” the youth snapped. “I test them on rats and mice for toxicity levels.”

“You feed poisonous mushrooms to them? What on Earth for?” Humans were sometimes so barbaric. He may be evil, but he wasn’t unnecessarily cruel.

“I write monographs. I’ve identified the lethal half-dose for thirteen species of poisonous mushrooms. Only to the gram, unfortunately, but I’ve got new glassware now that should help me adjust those values. Anyways, judging from your height, fur colour, speech abilities, teeth and claw length, and affinity for mist, you’re a human-eating wolf. Probably the Big Bad Wolf himself, even. I’ve read the stories. Somewhat ironic you would feel moral objections to the killing of innocent creatures.”

He couldn’t help but stare at the youth. Many of his victims already knew who he was; after all, his reputation preceded him in many areas. But that they’d be able to face and name him so offhandedly stunned him. Since the beginning, these encounters ran like clockwork; appear, frighten, trap them with a few clever tricks, then devour them and disappear back in the mist. Humans nowadays had perhaps grown bolder and less afraid of evil creatures.

“Well- well! You clearly know of me. Don’t you think you should be a little bit scared?”

“Why would I? You’re the first truly evil creature I’ve met. And I’ve walked around the Darkwood for years. You’re _fascinating_. How far can you travel in one day? How long have you existed? Have you really eaten seven children in one sitting? I think the stories probably exaggerate quite a lot.”

He allowed himself to let a chuckle escape his canines. “Has it even occurred to you that I could just eat you right here, and leave nothing but your Little Red Cloak?”

“Obviously. Why do you do that, anyways?”

“Why? Because I’m the Big Bad Wolf. It’s kind of what I do, you know.”

“Mmh, not acceptable. Normal wolves eat people sometimes, but leave bones and remains behind. You don’t eat. You devour. Swallow them whole. Why? What happens to them after?”

“If you’re so curious, why don’t you step into my jaws, and I can show you!”

He opened his jaws wide open, and was pleased to smell the first scent of fear coming from the youth.

A sharp whistle echoed through the trees. He snapped his jaws shut in surprise. He’d been so distracted by this stupidly curious boy he hadn’t even paid attention to other humans in the area.

“Oi, Red!” echoed a voice through the woods. It couldn’t be more than a hundred meters away. “Is that you and your cloak there?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” the youth shouted back. “Just picking mushrooms.” He turned his head back to the creature. “A friend of mine. He’s a huntsman.”

Well, shit. A huntsman. Probably well-equipped with sharp, pointy weapons. He was hungry but he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t be able to devour the youth here after all. Well, there was an easy solution to that. The young man had mentioned he was going to his Grand-mere’s house. Bringing food and drink meant she was unable to care for herself and probably alone. If he could get to the house before him, he could get the old woman AND the boy. Perfect.

“In that case, I better make myself scarce. I guess I’ll just have to devour you another day. Nice meeting you, Red Cloak.”

“Wait!”

He padded away; satisfied that he probably left the boy thinking he’d escaped his death. He wasn’t invisible per se, but just shifted his appearance so he’d be perfectly camouflaged in the shadows and mist of the forest. Part of him wished they could have talked some more. The youth was curious (interested in _him_ ), reckless (to the point of suicide) and amazingly clever. But it didn’t matter in the end. There was no resisting the compulsion of eating people. Not when he was always so hungry.

  
 **—THE WOLF (II)—**

Of course, he arrived at Grand-mere’s house before the youth. The mist was his element, and his stride was long; he made a beeline for the house that was just on the edge of the woods. He arrived at the cottage, and briefly shifted forms to take on the youth’s appearance. He knocked three times on the wooden door.

“Who goes there?” croaked an old woman’s voice.

“It is I, your grandchild, with my red cloak and your basket full of food and good wine!” he said, imitating the young man’s baritone voice.

“I am bedridden, child. Let yourself in. Pull the bobbin and loosen the latch. Careful now, it’s a bit fiddly!”

He did as commanded, stormed into the cottage, and the woman barely had time to scream as he devoured her whole. He licked his lips, satisfied. Now for the second one.

Soon enough, the youth was there and knocked on the door three times. He shifted himself into the old woman’s shape, and quickly put himself in the bed.

“Who is it?” he croaked.

“Who do you think? I’ve got the usual basket. Let me in.”

He couldn’t help smiling to himself. That boy thought he was a clever one. Two could play that game.

“I am bedridden, child. Let yourself in. Pull the bobbin and loosen the latch!”

The youth stepped in and unceremoniously dropped the picnic basket and its contents in the small kitchen space. He then proceeded to begin emptying it and tidying its contents.

“Never mind that, child. Come and give your grand-mere a kiss.”

The youth paused and slowly walked up to the bed. He could tell the young man was looking over him carefully. He beckoned to him with his arms.

“Come, give us a kiss,” he repeated.

The youth sat on the far end of the bed instead. “Grand-mere, you are unwell. It would seem unwise to kiss you when you’ve clearly been suffering from a severe case of _otitis externa_. It’s a rather contagious ailment. Your ears are as swollen as a troll’s. Have some cake, you’ll feel better.” He handed her a slice of frankly tasty-looking strawberry and cream cake.

“Otitis? Nonsense, child. I’m just all ears to hear your lovely voice again.”

The cake wasn’t his usual diet, but he graciously ate it with a spoon provided.

“You’ve had a severe cold at the very least. Your nose is dark and wet like a sow’s. It’s quite unseemly, and I’d rather not catch what you have.”

That brat was being outrageously rude to his grand-mere. He tried again, making sure the his voice matched the gentle croaking of the old woman.

“Never mind then, child. At least bring me a glass of wine so that I can wash down this cake.”

“Really grand-mere, you take me for a fool. Your eyes are yellow, probably with jaundice; your liver must be more ravaged by alcohol than a drunk Irish leprechaun.”

“No kiss and no wine for your grand-mere? Cruel child. Help me finish the cake at least. I am so tired, I can’t even lift my poor arms.”

The youth took up the plate and spoon on the bed and scooted over. He was close, now. So close he can snatch him. He opened his mouth hungrily.

“My, grand-mere,” drawls the youth. “What big teeth you have.”

“The better to eat you with, my child!”

He leapt out of the covers towards the boy, his jaws hinging open and teeth ready to swallow him whole.

Instead, the youth ducked, and he felt a searing pain in his shoulder as something stabbed through him.

Howling in pain, he collapsed on the floor. He looked to his left side. A crossbow bolt with a silver arrowhead was sticking in him.

“You… you _stabbed_ me!” he sobbed. It hurt so badly. His whole side was on fire. He scrambled to rip the arrow out, but instead he felt a shoe step on his chest and hold him down. The youth glared at him with steel grey eyes, loading another arrow in a crossbow and aiming right at his chest.

“Where did you get a bloody _crossbow_ from?” he whined.

“It was easy enough to convince the huntsman to lend it to me. I wouldn’t recommend trying to get away either. I’ve dosed the cake with a lethal dose of Ammonitis powder. You should start feeling the effects around now.”

“You… you _poisoned_ me? Like one of your lab rats?” With his free paw he felt his stomach. It did feel slightly irritated and hot. He could feel a prickly feeling crawling up his back. It wasn’t adrenaline, but something more distressing. Panic?

“Don’t sound so outraged, you were about to devour me!”

“Yes well, that’s what I’m supposed to do. I’m the Big Bad Wolf! You’re a village maiden, I found you lost in the woods, fair and square.”

The youth suddenly gripped his fur with both fists and looked at him with a intense stare. His eyes were blazing with something very unmaiden-like indeed.

“That’s exactly it,” he seethed. “Listen to yourself. All those words. Supposed to. Meant to. You’re just like everyone else. Filling out a predetermined role assigned to you arbitrarily, without questioning why. The evil Wolf devours the helpless Maiden! Don’t you ever wonder why it has to be that way? Why do you have to kill people and devour their souls? Did you consciously decide to do it one day? Or did someone order you? Or make you?”

He stared back at the youth. He was babbling nonsense. He knew very well why he devoured people. “There’s nothing mysterious about it,” he said. “I’m just always hungry.”

Then his stomach heaved, and he bent his head left to throw up.

  
 **—THE MAIDEN (II)—**

“There’s nothing mysterious about it. I’m just always hungry.”

He let the Wolf’s fur go as the beast leant over to heave and throw up to the side. Red sighed. The Ammonita had taken effect and the Wolf would die within fifteen or twenty minutes, judging by the amount of cake he’d ingested. It was a shame really. His first truly evil creature. He’d looked forward to knowing more about it. Maybe it could have been his ticket out of the village, since the Wolf was clearly able to move past the Darkwood. But despite its apparent intelligence, it appeared to be ruled by its desire to do evil for no other reason than hunger.

The Wolf let out a soft whine as he gripped the silver-headed arrow and wrenched it out of his shoulder. The wound bled for a few seconds then started closing itself.

“It’s no use healing it, you’re dead in twenty minutes,” he warned.

The beast turned its huge head to look at him. The wild eyes were still yellow but not as bright as before.

“Yeah. I can feel my stomach. Funny that something I ate should finally kill me. I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

Red looked more attentively at the Wolf’s face. His monstrous jaw was curled in something that looked like a smile.

“You seem oddly pleased about that.”

“I told you. I’m always hungry. It never stops. I’m not sure what happens after I die but I’m fairly certain I won’t be hungry anymore at least.”

“Oh. So you admit you don’t like being the way you are.”

Wolf snorted. “Did you think I enjoyed eating people? It’s bloody awful. I’m evil but not cruel. I can’t help it if I’m hungry for other people’s souls. It’s just who I am. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“No, that’s not it.” Red got up to his feet. “You hate it too! You’re an actor cast into an unwilling role by someone, something. You don’t belong either. You’re a mistake like me.”

Wolf stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you see? We’re all characters, playing in some sort of charade. We’ve all been placed into these roles, and nobody seems to realise it, except me, and well, now, you. I can’t do anything on my own; I can’t get out of this damn valley. But _you_ can.”

“What does it matter now. You’ve killed me.” Wolf’s stomach gave a tortured growl and he winced in pain.

“Not necessarily.” He took a small glass flask out from under his cloak. “I told you before, there’s a reason I experiment. I don’t kill small rodents for the fun of poisoning them. I’m testing antidotes. Here. Let’s strike a bargain: you get the antidote and in exchange, you take me out of the valley.”  
He uncorked the flask and held it out to the wolf. His eyes widened and he scampered back.

“No!”

“No? Why? Do you want to die so badly?”

Wolf hugged his cramping stomach. His muscles were spasming. “You don’t know what it’s like. I can’t stop feeling so hungry. I’ve killed so many people.  
And it never stops. If you give me the antidote… As soon as I feel better I’ll devour you too.”

“Do you _want_ to devour me?”

“Not particularly. It’s just…”

“The hunger. Yes. Well, we all have compulsions that are difficult to resist. Mind over matter. We can work on that. In the meantime, I’ll take my chances with the crossbow.”

Wolf looked at him, eyes widening. His body was shaking in small tremors.

“Don’t be an idiot. Take the antidote.”

The beast shook his head, sobbing.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. I’ll kill you.”

Red put all the passion he can muster in his words. He gripped Wolf’s jaw.

“I’m not scared of you. And I’ll kill _myself_ if I have to keep living in this pathetic village. I’m not meant to be here. Neither are you. Don’t you want to find out why?”

Wolf opens his mouth to answer. Seizing the opportunity, Red sticks his arm down the beast’s jaws, emptying the flask down his throat. Wolf chokes in surprise, but Red manages to clamp his jaws shut until he swallows and the spasms stop.

When he finally lets go, Wolf rubs his throat. “That was suicidal of you.”

“And yet I still live. Come on, time to go. Why are you laughing?”

“I’ve never met anyone who not only wasn’t afraid of me, but who could kill me then save my life within a half hour. You’re extraordinary.”

Red finds himself smiling too.

“That’s not what people usually say.”

“What do they usually say?”

“Probably burst into song and dance at this point. Extremely tedious. Feeling any hungry urges?”

Wolf patted his stomach thoughtfully. “Funnily enough, no. Your poison did a number on me. And I did just eat your grand-mere. I am sorry about that, by the way.”

Red shrugged. “I wasn’t particularly fond of the old hag myself. There’s no way you can bring her back I suppose?”

“No, sorry.”

“Well then, I suggest we move on. Where’s the nearest large town?”

  
 **—THE WOLF (III)—**

Wolf wasn’t sure how the hell he had ended up in this situation. What had been a standard ambush had turned into a near-death experience. Now the red-cloaked youth had asked for a favour in exchange for saving his life.

“So where exactly do you want me to take you?”

“Anywhere. Out of the valley, past the Darkwood. Any large city will do, preferably one with a library.”

“What’s stopping you from going there yourself?”

The youth clenched his jaws in frustration. “There’s a spell on the valley. Every time I try to walk out in one direction, I end up on the other side of the valley. I’m assuming you have a way of moving in and out past the enchantment.”

Wolf shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I never felt any magical barriers myself coming in here. I just follow the mist.”

“Well, take me the way you came from. You might want to change shape though. If we come across my friend the Huntsman again, it would be a shame for you to be shot.”

“What shall I disguise myself as?”

“Something unassuming. We need to be seen as two normal travellers.”

Wolf thought about the various human shapes he’d assumed in the past few months. They were all copies of people from various villages. It wouldn’t do to come across one of them, or their relatives. He focused on the youth’s words instead: normal, harmless traveller.

The youth’s eyebrow went up in amusement when he finished.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. I would’ve thought you’d go for something… fiercer.”  
Wolf adjusted his travel cloak and shoulder bag, and gripped his walking staff. “I’ve always wanted to be a healer. You know, helping people in need.”

The youth snorted. “You really are miscast.”

“Aren’t you? A maiden who dabbles in poisons and carries a crossbow. Hardly seems appropriate.”

“I suppose that makes us both misfits.”

It was strange. Wolf felt something in his stomach, but it wasn’t hunger. It was a lighter, more thrilling feeling. He returned the youth’s grin.

“If we’re to travel together, I should know your name.”

“Just call me Red. Everyone else does.”

“Right. Let’s leave this place then, Red. Follow me!”

The mist beckoned to him. He could see it snake through the forest. It made his body hum and vibrate, attuning itself to it.

“Wait! Wolf, where are you?”

He snapped out of it. Red was only five meters behind him.

“Right here,” he called.

“You were becoming invisible. I could barely see you.”

“Oh.” He held out his hand. “Maybe it’s easier if you hold on to me.”

Red’s hand was large and slightly scarred from chemical burns. It was warm with life as he gripped it and they started moving forward again. They were off the main path now, making their way between darkened oak trees and brambles. The mist was thick like cotton, blocking out the sun and sounds. You couldn’t see three feet ahead of you, but Wolf knew exactly where he was going.

“This feels strange,” Red said out loud. His voice echoed strangely through the silent forest.

“We’re just following the mist. Don’t let go.”

Red gripped his hand tighter as they made their way through the mist, out of the valley, and into the world.


End file.
